


Expertise

by LalaGen



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Bering and Wells Holiday Gift Exchange 2020, F/F, happy ending ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LalaGen/pseuds/LalaGen
Summary: Some things Myka and Helena think they're good at, and other things they're not so good at.Written for the Bering and Wells Holiday Gift Exchange 2020.
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Expertise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apparitionism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apparitionism/gifts).



> Inspired by this lovely message: "Greetings, secret gift-giver! First, I want to say an enormous thank you for being willing to do the work of giving this year. As for specific requests, normally I’d say I prefer happiness to sorrow, but right now that’s certainly not my call to make for anybody else in terms of creative production... on the other hand, however, if you’d like a prompt, or just a little push, I’ll give you a word I’ve been thinking about in a nearly uncountable number of contexts lately: expertise."

Myka Bering knows books. Perhaps from growing up in a bookstore, perhaps because of her rather Shakespearean middle name. And, though Myka doesn’t like to admit it, perhaps a byproduct of her childhood desire to please her father and somehow atone for his lack of a son. 

No matter the reason or reasons, Myka knows books. One could even say she possesses a certain expertise when it comes to them. So Myka knows that H.G. Wells was born and died in London, that he almost made it to eighty but not quite. That most people associate him with _The Time Machine_ , but that Myka’s favorite work of his is _The Island of Doctor Moreau_. 

What Myka did not know, before a certain Victorian inventor with _great_ hair dropped into her lap (not literally, and no, Myka is not thinking about that now), was that H.G. Wells is a woman. 

It isn’t every day that Myka gets the opportunity to speak to someone who was alive over a century ago—she is still uncertain of Mrs. Frederic’s approximate age—so she of course has to clear some things up, once she and H.G. are on friendlier terms.

_“So then who wrote all the books?”_

_“That would be my brother, Charles. He always did have a penchant for mixing fact and fiction.”_

_“Which one of you was born September 21, 1866?”_

_Helena raises an eyebrow. “Myka, don’t you know it’s impolite to ask a lady her age?”_

_“Was he the one who had the affairs?”_

_“We both had our fair share.”_

_Myka pauses. “What about Margaret Sanger? When she writes ‘England means London, and London means H.G. Wells.’”_

_Helena smirks. “Maggie always was dramatic. We did have something, briefly. Sex between two women is a rather effective form of birth control.”_

_“Interesting...”_

. . .

Helena Wells knows gadgets—she’s invented a good handful of them herself. Sure, when it comes to 21st century technology, her expertise is a bit rusty, but she still takes offense when a tall woman with curly brown hair and a lopsided smile calls her grappler “old-fashioned.” So of course Helena is pleased when she saves said woman using said grappler. And no one would blame her if part of her pleasure derived from the feeling of her arm wrapped around Agent Bering’s waist, and their bodies pressed against each other. Anyone with eyes can see that the woman is beautiful. Helena is suddenly reminded of Agent Bering’s eyes.

But Helena is here for a reason. She has a mission to accomplish. So she leaves the intriguing Agent Bering behind to gather certain things and set others in motion. She can’t resist leaving the agent something to remember her by though. She doesn’t mourn the loss of her grappler. After all, Helena can always make more gadgets. There is only one Myka Bering.

. . .

Myka Bering is good at keeping her guard up. The one time she let someone distract her from the job, there were disastrous consequences. After Sam, it was like she retreated into her shell. Sometimes she poked her head out because of people like Claudia and Pete and Leena, but she always kept part of herself tucked away, just in case. 

So why does it feel like she is being slowly coaxed away from her shell by a silver-tongued Brit who is also responsible for Myka’s sudden hair fixation? Myka realizes that she is some sort of snail-slug hybrid in this unflattering analogy, but it fits. 

The worst part is that Myka is sure Helena—H.G.—does this with everyone. Myka is not some special object of H.G.’s attention. The woman just lives and breathes charm, and Myka is one of her hapless victims. Except that Myka doesn’t feel hapless when…

_“Just look. How can you dislike a face like that?”_

_“Those eyes are evil!”_

_“What evil thoughts could a cat possibly have?”_

_“Oh, I don’t know. When to scratch you, bite you, cough up a hairball on you?”_

_It had been a silly argument to pick, but Helena had seemed happy to engage. And now Myka is using the Warehouse computer to look up cat images, with Helena looking over her shoulder._

_“You have to admit that it’s cute though.” Myka turns to look at Helena, their faces inches apart._

_Helena makes no move to back away or back down. “I will admit no such thing. Cats are not cute.”_

_“What is cute then?”_

_Helena just gives Myka a knowing look that makes her stomach do a flip._

_The door to the Warehouse opens with a bang. “Hey, Myka, H.G.!”_

_Myka jumps, and both she and Helena snap their heads toward Pete._

_“Peter, a little gentler next time, please. You frightened poor Myka.” Helena’s fingers stroke Myka’s arm in a gesture of comfort._

_Pete looks between the two women. “Yeah, okay… Artie wanted me to tell you, pack your bags. You’re going to Northampton, Massachusetts.”_

_Myka turns to Helena. “Another Bering and Wells adventure, then?”_

_“As it should be,” Helena returns with a smile._

No, when Myka is with Helena, she doesn’t feel hapless at all. She is content to bask in the brightness of the star that is Helena Wells, and maybe—just maybe—this is someone worth letting her guard down for. 

. . .

Helena Wells knows how to charm people. With Pete Lattimer, all it takes is a meaningful glance and a coy smile. With Myka, it’s taken numerous glances and smiles, several witty dialogues, and as many excuses to make physical contact as Helena can find. Helena enjoys a challenge, and Myka is certainly an alluring one. What Helena doesn’t realize until too late is that Myka Bering has charms of her own, ones not immediately apparent to the eye. 

The intellect is what catches her interest first. Then the courage and self-sacrifice. The thing that ultimately breaks down Helena’s walls is the care. Myka cares so much about everyone, even those who don’t deserve it. Helena doesn’t like to think about how she is in the latter category. Helena knows that Myka is good to the core. Helena also knows that she is not. The truth is, Myka is too good for her. Yet (so?) Helena cannot bring herself to pull the trigger. 

. . .

Myka Bering can read people. She has been trained in it after all. But even before that, she was good at reading people. She was the quiet girl tucked behind a book, watching as people smirked or scowled; tapped a foot or stood stock-still; revealed their thoughts while saying nothing. 

Helena’s eyes say something—a message buried in that dark, intense gaze. Myka scarcely allows herself to consider what that message could be. It’s too much to hope for that, perhaps, Helena’s eyes are repeating back the same message Myka’s eyes have been blinking out since their chance meeting at the university. That _hey, you’re interesting to me_ and _we make a good team_ and… something _more_.

_Myka doesn’t realize she is staring until Helena’s eyes slide toward hers and they connect with a jolt. Myka’s gaze skitters away out of embarrassment, but when she glances back, Helena is still watching her, amusement written all over her face._

_“Yes, Myka?”_

_“Just thinking,” she responds evenly._

_Helena nods sagely before turning her attention back to the book in her hand, one of her brother’s._

_Myka looks down at her own book and tries to focus on the paragraph that she’s been rereading for a while now, but her mind refuses to cooperate. She’s too fixated on the way that Helena bites her lip when she’s deep in concentration. Myka’s eyes move from the little furrow in Helena’s brow to the hand absentmindedly stroking her neck._

_The dots connect at last and Myka has to refrain from shaking her head. Because as good as she is at reading others, it has taken her so long to recognize something obvious about herself. Myka Bering is crushing hard on one Helena Wells._

Once Myka figures out this truth, things between them become easier and harder all at once. Myka allows herself to lean into Helena’s soft touches, soak in the warmth of her smiles, flirt back during their banter, and imagine what could be. But Myka also overanalyzes the meaning behind every interaction and feels more nervous around Helena than she ever has.

In the end, none of it matters. Helena is whisked away by the Regents, and Myka is left with the realization that perhaps she is not so good at reading people.

. . .

Helena Wells is not well-versed in apologies. Intelligence, charm, and a stubborn nature have conspired to ensure that she has never needed to give one. But Helena has messed up this time. Helena has no illusions—she does not expect to be forgiven—and if this were the old Helena, from a time after Christina’s death but before she and Myka crossed paths, Helena would run. 

But Myka deserves an apology. Helena cannot bear the idea of Myka blaming herself for not seeing through Helena’s schemes. And selfishly, Helena needs to look into Myka’s eyes. She needs to know whether that message is still there, whether there’s still a chance to continue what they had started. Helena does not know if she can survive looking into Myka’s eyes and seeing only hatred. But ultimately, hope triumphs over fear.

So Helena apologizes. It’s a drawn out apology, starting with a holographic pep talk and then a noble sacrifice and even later, a request to return to the Warehouse, and finally… 

_Helena shuts her eyes, bracing for impact. An arm suddenly loops around her waist, and she’s flying. When she opens her eyes again, she finds herself clinging to Myka, the two of them dangling from a pedestrian bridge overhead._

_Helena locks eyes with her rescuer. “How old-fashioned.”_

_Myka rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Well, I owed you one. Figured this was an appropriate way to pay my debts.”_

_Then Myka is smiling at her, the way she used to, and Helena’s heart beats frantically in anticipation of the words she still needs to say. “Myka. I’m… I’m sorry.”_

_Myka’s eyes soften. “I know,” she says, and tightens her hold on Helena._

. . .

Myka Bering has never been with a woman before. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t thought about it, multiple times, often lying in bed at night. And it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to. It’s just, what do you do when every woman you meet pales in comparison to the reformed evil genius who stole your heart in her plot to end the world? 

_Myka kisses said genius. Softly at first and then hard and fast._

_“Finally,” is all Helena says before tugging Myka into her bedroom and shutting the door._

_Inside the room, they come together again, lips colliding and hands roaming. Myka pulls away to yank open the top of Helena’s dress shirt. Buttons go flying._

_“Myka,” Helena gasps reproachfully._

_“Sorry, I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” Myka unbuttons the rest of the shirt properly as an apology and then leans back to appreciate the smooth expanse of skin she has exposed. She raises a hand before lowering it down self-consciously. “I’ve never done this before,” she admits._

_Helena says nothing, just takes Myka’s hand and guides it to her waist._

_Myka takes a moment to swipe her thumb across soft skin, noting the way goosebumps rise under it. Then she surges forward and reclaims Helena’s mouth._

_They are on the bed, Myka’s teeth are on Helena’s neck, and her hand is under Helena’s bra. She finds a nipple and pinches, and Helena arches her back with a little gasp. Myka reaches behind Helena with her free hand and pops the clasp of the bra. The bra and shirt disappear._

_“Agent Bering, are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Helena’s smirk fades as Myka’s lips close over her other nipple, tongue swirling over the nub._

_When Helena starts to buck under her, Myka takes that as her cue to disappear the pants as well. She can see the wet patch on the crotch of Helena’s underwear, smell her arousal. Myka slows down, gliding her lips gently up Helena’s inner thighs._

_Helena’s huff of frustration makes Myka chuckle. “Myka, don’t t—”_

_Then she’s tugging down the underwear and pressing a sloppy kiss to Helena’s center. Her tongue finds Helena’s clit and she slides two fingers into her. She strokes and pumps simultaneously, spurred on by Helena’s thighs clamped over her ears and Helena’s heels digging into her back._

_She adds a third finger and sucks with her mouth, and the pitch of Helena’s moans increases. Helena’s hips jerk up and down several times, and then she stills._

_Helena pulls Myka up to give her a kiss._

_Later, Myka will map every inch of Helena’s body with her fingers and lips, catalog every way to pull a groan or a sigh out of her. She wants to become an expert in pleasuring Helena Wells._

_But for now, Myka is content to hold the woman she loves and be held in return._


End file.
